One of the marking points of the Folk Suburb year is the revelation of the birds' nests, often in unlikely looking trees, marking autumn becoming winter. I think Edward Thomas did a poem where, if I remember it right, he mildly chastised himself for not spotting the nests while the trees were in leaf. I, though, like the revelation of the used nests, black clots in the trees, in laburnums and cherries that have jammed themselves between groups of semis, with the nests almost at touching distance of landing and bathroom windows; the birds having been there all the time without the sealed-in house dwellers once knowing, probably, or caring, probably, that they were there.
In recognition of the birds' secrecy, I have provided no crappy drawing.
Folk Suburb Landscape, Ordinary Tradition, Folk Suburb, Weird Folk
I very much like your blog, but I don't always have anything to say about your posts as you seem to say it all in one go. I just wanted you to know that people were taking notice.
ReplyDeleteI second that. Each post perfectly formed and thought out.
ReplyDeleteThanks very much for these comments. As you know, it's good to know someone is there, somewhere.
ReplyDeleteI third that. Wonderful stuff. From the reader's point of view it's good to know that somebody else is making these observations and being thrilled by them. (PS: keep up the not-at-all-crappy drawings)
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